


Celt Fire

by BloodoftheRoseRedPirate



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Fights, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Triggers, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodoftheRoseRedPirate/pseuds/BloodoftheRoseRedPirate
Summary: When Ragnar returns to Kattegat he brings back something from his trip to England.A woman of the Celts. With hair seemingly touched by the gods fire. When Ivar over hears his mother and father speaking he discovers this woman is to be his. A warrior much like himself. A beautiful woman...just for him. All his own. No one else's.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also posted on my Fanfiction.net account SamanthaJane13. After reviewing this story I realize that some of the events might not follow true to cannon. Please bear with me on that detail. Any language that you see in the stories that are not english will have translations to follow immediately. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER!: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Screams and cries pierced through the rain. Each drop felt as if they held the weight of the world. Buildings were on fire and bodies littered the ground. A single person sat among them but they were the only one alive. Their skin was covered in the blood of those who had done this. Red hair lay about like a curtain over the body that they held in their arms. Tears fell and mixed with the rain drops. Time passes....the bodies of the murderers are buried in unmarked graves. 

While the bodies of those who had been murmured now all lay on a mass pyer. The only living survivor lights the fire. They sit there and they watch as the bodies of the people they loved are taken away to the afterlife. Lip move in a silent prayer as the fires go out. 

One...

By one...

A hand met their shoulder. A tall man bald with a long beard and piercing blue eyes. Their hands pulled them up. Feet move heavily against the ground. Their body feeling heavy and weak from emotions that were tearing them apart. They had all they needed...Supplies and weapons. Their body wears their father's coat to keep warm. Long red hair like fire blows in the breeze as they walked along. A boat lay waiting with others. They were to go with them and begin anew. One last look...one final glance at their home. Then...feet touched the wood of the boat as they climbed on. Away they go...away from this place...away from the life they once had and cherished. It was time to start anew. It was time to move on and continue to live. 

~Kattegat~

Ragnar had returned to his home. The people were bewildered that he had come back. Even more so that he was not alone. There was a woman with him. A woman who had hair that was as bright as Loki’s fire and eyes as blue as the sky. She was a tall woman and the hair was in wild curls that came past her waist. She was definitely a foreigner. This intrigued many who looked upon her. A sword at her waist suggested she knew the ways of a warrior. 

Her blue eyes watched the four men who now stood before the man she came with. One having to drag himself along. A cripple he was and it was his eyes who met hers. She ignored the shouting and the noise as they continued to look at one another. Was this the one Ragnar had spoken of? He was handsome indeed. With his hair with the sides shaved down. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to find their way into one's soul. 

“Annag...” she tore her gaze away from the man as she heard her name called. Ragnar the man she came with gave her the nod to follow. And so she followed him inside the longhouse that had been and was his. 

“'S e seo an dachaigh agad?” (Is this your home?) she asked softly as they walked inside. 

“B 'e an dachaigh agam...” (It was my home...) he responded in her language. Annag had taught him as he had taught her his. “Aon uair 's mi air bruidhinn ri mo bhean, bidh mi a' lorg thu àite-fuirich.” (Once I have spoken with my wife, I will find you a place to stay.) 

“Tapadh leibh. Tha thu air a bhith chaoimhneil rium.” (Thank you. You have been most kind to me. ) He stopped and turned to the girl. She was about the same age as his youngest son Ivar. She was skilled and strong. When they had met she was alone and orphaned. He had taken pity upon her only for her to shock him after she saved his life against a giant bear. Annag’s eyes turned upward as she saw a beautiful woman staring at them harshly. She figured this must be Ragnar’s Queen. She hesitated before bowing softly. She did not want to anger anyone. 

“Aslaug...” Ragnar stated before she came over and held Annag by her chin. Their eyes locked and they stayed locked for a long time. She knew what this woman was doing. Annag was being sized up and she held her ground firmly. 

“Is she your new one?” She asked with almost a sneer. “Your new whore or am I to be replaced.” 

“I am no whore.” Annag spat as she slapped away the woman's hand. “I am not to be Ragnar’s wife.” Aslaug looked to Ragnar confused but Ragnar only smiled. 

“She is for Ivar.” 

“For Ivar? You have been gone for so many years and you bring him back a woman?” 

“Not just any woman my wife.” He spoke as he drew closer to her “A Celt. They are practically the closest thing over there to us. Strong sturdy and brave. She is a warrior. Ivar needs someone as strong as him.” Annag had not taken her eyes away from Aslaug the whole time. All the while the woman, tall and thin and beautiful stared right back. 

“She is for my son.” She stood taller. “We shall see.” 

Ragnar sighed and turned to the red haired woman. “Annag, theirig rannsachadh fhad 'sa bha mi bruidhinn ri mo bhean.” (Annag, go explore while I speak with my wife. ) Aslaug looked to Ragnar as he spoke in the tongue of the foreigner. Then again it did not surprise her. He was always learning something new. Annag gave a nod of her head before she walked out of the home. She looked about the town before heading off into the woods. Little had she known that someone had been listening. She wrapped her plaid shawl around her body as the chill picked up. 

This place reminded her so much of home. It made her feel comfortable but yet she also felt awkward for she was a newcomer here. She came to an area with trees and sat upon a rock. The area was a small clearing that held a glimpse of the river. Sitting there she watched the water flow by her quietly. She wondered how her life would be here in this place. How would life with the man she had been promised to? Would he be kind? Would he be cruel? So many questions. 

Meanwhile, 

Ivar continued to sit outside of the house. He listened to his father and mother talking. The woman...the one with the wild hair was to be his? Such beauty was to be his? Not to his brothers but to him. Could a woman like that every truly want him. “What is on your mind brother?” asked Ubbe as he sat beside him. He had seen the way the woman and his brother had locked eyes. “You are thinking about that red haired woman?” 

“She is to be my wife.” 

“What?” Ubbe asked curiously. “Who told you this?” 

“I over heard mother and father talking. The woman, father saved her life. He brought her back with him. She is a strong warrior a....Celt he called her. They are people from the England area who are rather similar to us.” 

“A Celt. Hmm. And she has been promised to you? A ...war bride?” 

“I guess you could put it like that. She didn’t seem opposed to it.” Ivar shrugged as he looked at his brother. “You know what this means don’t you? I will be married before you my brother.” he chuckled as Ubbe pushed his head away. 

“You married? Who would have thought.” Sigurd said as he walked towards his brothers. “Perhaps she will pity you. Perhaps she will not be able to handle being with someone like you. Her being a supposed warrior.” He taunted his brother without batting an eyelash. “What warrior would chain themselves down to a cripple?” Sigurd taunted with a smirk. 

“That is enough Sigurd.” Ubbe scolded causing the blond to scoff before he walked off. “Don’t let him get to you Ivar.” Ubbe said before he patted his brother's head. Ivar pushed his hand off as he watched his elder brother walk off. He huffed heavily as his eyes began to burn in their backs. How he hated Sigurd and his relentless cruelty. He flipped over onto his hands and began to walk off. Without realizing it he went in the direction the woman went. Annag...her name burned into his brain. 

His arms carried him through the woods to the section of clearing. There she sat wrapped in a thick wool shawl. He sat there staring at her from afar. By the gods she was beautiful to behold. Her hair was like a raging fire in the wind. Her skin was pale like the snow. He remembered her eyes. The way they bore into his. Green like the woodland trees. 

“I know you are there.” 

Her voice called out causing Ivar to freeze. He looked up as her eyes locked once again with his. He couldn’t help but crawl over to her. Never once did he break eye contact. He sat beside her on the ground. His face level with her thighs. “Are you Ivar?” She asked softly. Oh how his name sounded on her voice. Her accent thick and beautiful. 

“I am. Your name is Annag is it not?” He asked playfully as he looked up at her. “You are to be mine.” 

“I am. Does that please you?” Her green eyes stared down at him curiously. She was not afraid of him. For when she looked into his eyes it felt right. 

“Indeed it does. To have a strong and beautiful woman at my side. It pleases me greatly.” He smiled up at her his hypnotic blue eyes holding such glee at the idea. This woman was to be his. Not Ubbe’s, Not Hvitserk’s, not Sigurd’s...His. She was to be his wife. “And what of me? Do I...please you? Does the idea of having a cripple as your husband please you?” His voice became harsh for a moment. His eyes looked deeper into Annag’s. 

“If you mean do I pity the thought of having to be married to a cripple? Then no. I can see in your eyes that you are not a normal man Ivar. You are special.” The corner of her mouth pulled into a small smile. 

Ivar smirked as his hand found her thigh. His chin rested upon the back of it as he looked up at her. He watched her hand slowly rise up only to run through his hair. His hand tightened on her thigh at the feeling. It felt so good. He could get used to having his wife do this for him. It made him calm and relaxed. Something Ivar had not felt in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know it, I don't own it.

Word soon spread through the Village. The strange red-haired woman was to marry the King's youngest son. Many doubted the success of the marriage. Mainly the reason being Ivar was a cripple. Could he even produce an heir? Annag ignored all these rumors and gossip. For that is all that it was.

She wasn't all too surprised that Ivar had her join him and his brothers for training. It was all rather exciting. It reminded her of the set up her own brothers had. The log targets the archery set up with the deer. This caused her to think back to her family. Her brothers...sister...her father...all of them were gone. Her whole clan had been wiped out. Annag sighed to herself as she stood back against a tree and watched them.

Hvitserk paired up with Sigurd while Ubbe and Ivar practiced their archery. Sigurd had two axes while Hvitserk had his swords. She could see the blond watching her as she stood there. Ivar shot his arrow between his two brothers instantly getting their attention. There was something about the look in Ivars eyes. A smugness that made him look wicked and handsome.

Sigurd flung his Ax at Ivar knocking the freshly poured cup of mead out of his hand. Ivar then took his own ax and flung it into the target as it went flying past Sigurd's head. Annag watched as some blood trickled down his head. She couldn't help but smile. He was very good. Very. Very good.

"What are you smiling about?" Sigurd asked as he noticed the smile. Then those green eyes locked onto Sigurd. "Can you fight? Do you know how to use that sword on your waist woman? Or do you even know how to speak our language?" He Taunted her as the blood trickled down his face.

The only people who had heard Annag speak the language of their people were Ragnar...Aslaug and Ivar himself. Ivar felt his hand curling around his sword. "You dare speak to my Bride like that Sigurd?" He threatened. Hvitserk and Ubbe looked at one another.

"Your Bride..." Sigurd scoffed. "She probably agreed out of pity." He spat back at Ivar causing the younger's face to contort in anger.

"Fight me." Ivar, as well as his brothers all, looked up at Annag.

"What?"

"I said. Fight me." She said in a calm voice as she continued to stare at him. Ivar watched curiously. He had heard that her people were great warriors. Now he would get to see it.

Sigurd scoffed "You think you can fight me?" He looked to his brothers and laughed. Ivar looked from his cackling brother to his bride to be. Annag didn't back down. Her glare had darkened at Sigurd.

"I don't think...I know I can. Pick up yer sword little boy. Fight me...unless you are scared." She smirked at Sigurd who now looked completely insulted. This woman had called him a little boy as well as claiming he was scared. His face twisted in a childish fury before grabbing his sword. Annag backed up giving them space. She knew how to fight, gods knew she knew how to fight. Her father had taught her. Before she engaged Sigurd her eyes briefly closed ' _Father...guide my sword...'._

Sigurd swung at her with his heavy broadsword which she quickly blocked with hers. Her eyes locked with Sigurd before pushing him back. Left, right, left right, perri, perri, thrust, and thrust. She blocked all of his advances. The three brothers stood watching the exchange with rather impressed looks. The woman was indeed holding her own against their brother. Ivar was watching far more intently than the other two. His eyes, unblinking, watched his bride. It was as if she were a swan in mid-flight. Her hair flying about her like a wildfire. What she must be like in battle...the very thought seemed to bring erotic images to Ivar's mind. He bit onto his thumb as he continued to watch. Her sword swung up knocking Sigurd's from his hand before her boot connected to his chest. He fell flat on his back and a pair of crossed blades lay above his throat.

Sigurd couldn't believe this woman had bested him. This woman...his brother's fucking bride! He seethed in anger as her green eyes bore into his. She stepped back and slammed Sigurd's sword into the ground as she sheathed her own. Then much to everyone's surprise, she held out her hand to him. "You fought well..." Sigurd was hesitant to take her hand but he did and she pulled him to his feet. Then, she walked away to stand back against a tree near Ivar.

Ivar looked at his bride with heavy eyes as his breathing was deep. He felt his pants tightening as he gazed upon his warrior queen. She must have been with skills like that. He wished they were already married so he could take her. He wondered what sparing would be like...would it be foreplay for them? So many more thoughts ran through Ivar's mind before they headed back to the village.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" he asked out of the blue as they made their way back. He was curious to where she learned her skill.

"My father taught me" was her only reply at first. But seeing Ivar's inquisitive attitude she gave in. "I was the eldest child. I had three younger brothers and sister. My father taught me so I would know how to fight and defend my family. I taught my brothers before..." she closed her eyes as the memories came flashing back. "Before they died." She finally said in a soft whisper.

"How did they die?" Ivar asked now becoming more and more curious of his bride. His eyes continued to stare at her as his brothers carried the cart he was on.

"The English came...and they wiped out my village. Pagans, heathens, and heretics were their reason. We were no better than animals. I fought as much as I could. I killed who I could...but my family was wiped out. My entire clan..was gone."

Ivar listened to her story and felt sad for her. She had no one, "Is that when my father found you?"

"Yes. He took me in and saved me. I was wounded." She sighed heavily "I would have died if it were not for him."

"And I would not have met you." Ivar teased softly as he smirked. Sure enough, his smirk seemed to ease her mood. She shook her head and smiled as well. She walked ahead of them allowing Ivar to watch her from behind. He bit his lip as he watched her walk away. Soon she would be his. Soon...she would be writhing beneath him...or above him...and he would make her his.


End file.
